


A Devil For Christmas

by EllanaSan



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Oh Come All Ye Faithful Fic Exchange, Secret Santa, christmas sweater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8940499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: Christmas, as he had so kindly informed the Detective already, was a sham. Informing the Detective had never assured him victory, though. 
Oh Come All Ye Faithfull Secret Santa Fic Exchange!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Antarctic_Echoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctic_Echoes/gifts).



> It’s Christmas week! This is a little one shoot for the Oh All Come All Ye Faithfull Secret Santa Fic Exchange and my willing (although unaware) victim was… *drums roll* Antarctic_Echoes who requested Chloe, Lucifer and Trixie, a T rating, some Chloe/Lucifer and whose prompt was “ugly Christmas sweaters”.   
> I hope you like it!

Christmas, as he had so kindly informed the Detective already, was _a_ _sham_.

A _travesty_.

A world-wide _mockery_.

It wasn’t the right date, the romanticized version of the story was sickening, and, really, could humans get everything more _wrong_?

And if Lucifer could _somehow_ appreciate the delectable irony of having the celebration of his alleged half-brother’s birth overshadowed by a fictional being with an overflowing belly and an awful fashion sense, it didn’t mean he was keen on partaking in said celebration. As he had, _again_ , informed the Detective.

Informing the Detective had never assured him victory, though. Hence why he pulled his expensive sport car in a parking spot outside her apartment building and hopped out under the hard sun, pouting at the ridiculous decorations on everyone’s balconies.

Snowmen, polar bears, reindeers…

All the North Pole in Los Angeles.

He grabbed the huge box from the backseat, adjusting his grip on the slippery shimmering wrapping paper and making sure the ribbon was still in place. It wasn’t a present without a real bow, in his opinion. The Detective had given him _specific_ instructions about the gift – mainly that he should show up with one or not at all, before proceeding to make him understand _not at all_ wasn’t an option, and that it should be child friendly.

It had required more efforts than he would have liked.

Super strength or not, he still struggled to reach the building’s front door because the box was preventing him from seeing where he was going. He hoped the Detective had booze because he would _need_ booze to survive this day.

He couldn’t really knock with the present in the way so he awkwardly hit the door a few times with his foot. It opened almost immediately with an excited _“Lucifer!”_. Something – that he guessed to be the small human – attached itself to his leg.

He wondered if they were all _that_ affectionate and if it might be trained out of them.

“Here.” he grumbled, eager to get rid of the child. He thrust the present in her arms and she gasped and stumbled back. If the Detective hadn’t steadied her, she might have fallen. Lucifer was about to suggest she taught her spawn to walk a little better but he didn’t have time.

“It’s so big!” Trixie squealed in delight.

“Yes, that’s what they all say, darling.” he grinned, which earned him a slap on the arm and a warning look from the Detective. He pouted, wounded. “What?”

“Keep your innuendos away from my daughter’s ears.” she scolded him.

He opened his mouth to retort and promptly shut it when he saw the state of the apartment. It was a Christmas explosion, there was no other word for it. Candy canes, twinkling fairy lights, ornaments, holly, Santa Claus automatons that sang and wriggled, reindeers and their sleights…

_A nightmare_.

He was so shocked that he let Trixie slip her hand in his and steer him toward the living-room where it was even _worse_. The room was dominated by a huge Christmas tree that was threatening to fall under the weight of the numerous ornaments.

It was _cold_ too. As if the Detective had been actively trying to recreate an arctic weather.

“Where’s Maze?” he asked in a small uncharacteristic voice. He would have welcomed his demon’s presence right at the moment. Her role was to protect him and he needed protection from all that glitter and holidays cheer.

The Detective placed the box in the middle of the living-room on a pile of already unwrapped presents, struggling a little with the size of it. She looked slightly alarmed, looking around as if calculating what it could be and how she was going to make it fit in the apartment. Not Lucifer’s problem. She had said mandatory and child friendly. She had _never_ specified a limited size.

“She ran away last night after Dan dropped Trixie out. I think the plate of cookies we left for Santa was too much for her.” she joked, watching her daughter attack the bow coiled around the box. “You didn’t buy her a pony, right? Because a pony could definitely fit in there…”

“Did she want a pony?” he frowned. She could have said. A pony would have been _easier_ to purchase. He had been forced to enter a _toy store_ for this. He was about to tell her as much when he finally took a proper look at her and almost recoiled in horror. “What are you _wearing_?” She lifted her eyebrows pointedly and folded her arms over her chest. He immediately flashed her a playful grin. “Not that you are not lovely as ever, Detective… And not to alarm you but there seems to be an old pervert’s face on your breasts.”

The sweater at least explained the freezing temperature.

Trixie’s laughter boomed out before she could reprimand him. “It’s Santa, silly!”  

“Yes.” Chloe hissed. “It’s _Santa_. _Silly_.”

Lucifer breathed out a deep sigh and physically restrained himself from explaining to the child that ‘Santa’ wasn’t real. He had tried that once a few weeks earlier when the invitation to spend Christmas with them had come up and he had almost gotten beaten to death by the Detective for it.

He quickly realized Trixie was wearing a matching woolen sweater except instead of an old man she had a reindeer with a red nose plastered on her chest.

“I _must_ say I prefer Rudolph.” he declared.

“Rudolph is cool.” the child approved, finally getting rid of the ribbon. The wrapping paper didn’t last long. It was ripped away, revealing the content of the box.

It was a huge dollhouse. Very pink, very glittery. A little mansion with a pool, a – also pink – sport car, and every possible pieces of furniture a mansion might need. 

He winced at the _loud_ screams and looked at the Detective in alarm. “Did I do it wrong?”

The forceful hug that felt more like being tackled by a hellhound – very playful little things but strong as oxen – answered that for him.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou…” Trixie mumbled in his stomach, making him _very_ uncomfortable.

“Lucifer…” the Detective gaped. “This is _very_ expensive.”

“Yes, it is.” he shrugged, discreetly nudging the spawn away. “And it is meant to be played with. Go play with it. Go.” He successfully managed to shoo the child away and breathed a sigh of relief only to be faced with a _not so enthusiastic_ expression on his partner’s face. “What is wrong _now_ , Detective? I was told this is the toy every little girl dreams of this year.”

She looked as if she wanted to say something, then glanced at her daughter who was already trying to get the box open, and then shook her head. “Thank you.”

He relaxed, his trademark grin coming back full force. “Why, you _are_ welcome. Is there any way I can get alcohol with those words of gratitude?”

“You can get eggnog.” she offered. He made a face, prompting her to snort. “With a special _spiky_ spice.”

“She means alcohol.” Trixie clarified for his sake and to her mother’s amusement. “Maze told me.”

“Sure, she did.” the Detective sighed, disappearing toward the kitchen. “Monkey, why don’t you give Lucifer his gift before you start setting up the dollhouse?”

“Yes!” the girl answered, rummaging under a pile of torn wrapping papers.

“A gift?” he frowned. “For _me_?”

“It’s Christmas, everyone gets a gift. _Duh_.” the child mocked as if he was an idiot. She thrust a rather floppy sloppily wrapped present in his hands and waited there, her hands behind her back, a proud grin on her face, impatiently shuffling her weight front the sole of her feet to her toes. When he just stood there, she glanced toward the kitchen and loudly whispered. “Hurry up, I want to play.”

He loved getting presents. People _never_ gave him presents. They exchanged favors. It was a new and very enjoyable feeling and he decided he was going to force Maze and Amenadiel to do it more often. He _should_ get presents.

He tore the paper away in excitement and found himself disappointed when he unearthed the Christmas sweater.

“I _knew_ you wouldn’t have one.” Trixie declared wisely. “Now we all match.” The Detective came back just in time to catch his disgruntled face when he spotted the Christmas angel knitted on the sweater. It was the crude kind. The kind you found on top of trees. “I had the idea but Mommy picked it.” the child insisted. “Do you like it?”

He found he couldn’t quite tell the truth faced with her expectant innocent eyes. He couldn’t wound a child’s feelings. It would have been like kicking a puppy.

Maybe the devil was getting soft in his old age.

He opted for a white lie. “I like the gift.”  Or the _idea_ of the gift anyway.

Trixie turned back to her dollhouse, apparently satisfied with that answer, and he tossed the sweater on the couch, planning on burying it under the cushions later on. Out of sight, out of mind.

“I don’t think so.” the Detective grinned, placing the two cups of eggnogs on the coffee table. “It’s Christmas, Lucifer, you need to suit up.”

She was quick for a human and before he had time to blink, she was on him, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. He was so taken with her bright eyes and her sudden proximity that he forgot to protest.

“If you wish to undress me, you might want to send the child away first.” he teased. He got his arm whacked for his trouble. “ _Ow_.” he complained. “Are you into pain play, Detective?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” she deadpanned, snatching the sweater from the couch and pulling it over his head, effectively shutting him up. He immediately fussed over his hair, making her chuckle. “You’re so _vain_.”

“I’m the devil.” he huffed. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

A reputation that would be destroyed if anyone ever found pictures of him in that ugly Christmas sweater that, to add insult to injury, had a completely unrealistic picture of an angel on it.

It was almost worse than the goat thing.

Somewhere in the Silver City, he was sure his father was holding his stomach from all the laughing.

He grumbled and grumbled but was mostly ignored because the child needed the Detective’s help with putting together some parts of the dollhouse. Something he was soon roped into himself. And, _really_ , if he had known it required _work_ he would have insisted upon the store sending someone to do it because for a child toy, it was _complicated_.

“Whoever invented this is going straight to hell.” he declared after ten minutes spent fighting to clip something into place. “This is frustrating and boring.” He dropped the piece and looked at the child who had been passing time examining her other gifts. There was a toy piano amongst the lot and he wrinkled his nose, glaring at the offending piece of plastic with its numerous unnecessary LEDs. “Now, _why_ didn’t you tell me your offspring wanted a piano? I would have given her a _real_ one. Not this poor excuse of…”

“I don’t think a grand piano would fit in the appartment, Lucifer.” the Detective cut him off. “And it’s the one she wanted.”

He snatched the toy from her daughter’s hands and inspected it, neither pleased nor impressed by what he saw. He tentatively pressed a key and made a face at the awful sound that came out.

“Terrible.” he commented.

“Can you play?” Trixie asked. “Play a Christmas song!”

He held the toy by its corner with distaste but the Detective elbowed him with a bright smile.

“Come on.” she coaxed. “It’s not your fancy piano but… It’s _fun_.”

See, that was how he had ended up celebrating Christmas with an ugly angel sweater in the first place. He said no, she gave him that particular look with a hint of a smile, and he ended up doing what she wanted.

The fierce terrifying devil brought to his knees.

Not that he wouldn’t drop to his knees willingly enough for her if she just gave him the permission…

He sighed but settled down cross-legged with the toy on his lap and played the first few notes of _Jingle Bells_ , frustrated by the way the toy couldn’t follow his quick fingers. He resolved to buy Trixie a better one at the first opportunity. Perhaps not a grand piano since the Detective was right and it wouldn’t fit in there but something smaller and of good manufacture. Something with a _pure_ sound.

He played and they sang, regularly trying to get him to join, and he had to admit it was a little fun. If only because their singing was terrible and they often forgot the lyrics and made some up.

Eventually, Trixie declared herself hungry and they stuffed themselves with a meal the Detective had obviously spent a long time cooking. He wouldn’t have admitted it and he wasn’t really sure why but he liked those meal times shared with her and her spawn.

It felt strangely like… what a _family_ ought to be.

He spared a thought for Amenadiel, wondering what his brother was up to, and wished he could help him see that it was no terrible fate to be cast out of Heaven in the end. Lucifer had never been more certain of anything in his life, his home was down there.

And maybe, he thought, after sharing a smile with the Detective, it wasn’t just _down there_ but _right here_.

“Let’s watch _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_!” Trixie exclaimed once they were all so full even Lucifer didn’t think he could swallow another bite.

Once again, he found himself dragged to the living-room, no matter how many times he tried to convince the child physical contact wasn’t necessary to get him from point A to point B. He and the Detective settled on the couch while Trixie sat down on the floor to play with her new presents.

“If she’s not going to watch…” he frowned.

“I can watch _and_ play.” the girl retorted haughtily. “Besides, the movie is for you.”

“Everyone should watch _The Grinch_ once.” the Detective nodded seriously.

He let out a long dramatic sigh. “If we must.”   

He kept a running commentary for most of the movie, which seemed to amuse the Detective and the little human to no end despite his more than pertinent remarks – _storks_ , really? two old women living together who are _simply_ friends?

At some point, Trixie turned to him with a very serious expression, propped her chin on his knee despite his wincing, and declared solemnly: “You’re like the Grinch.”

“I have _nothing_ in common with that Grinch.” he huffed, so offended he forgot to nudge her away. “For one thing, I am _the_ _devil_ not a _cartoon_. And I am not _green_. My real face is _red_. And what does it make of the dog, then? _Maze_? She will _love_ that…”

The Detective looped her arms around his and leaned against his side in a pacifying manner that stopped his rant but still left him sputtering.

“I think what Trixie means is that your heart grows in size when you are with people who love you.” she offered quietly.

“Oh.” Lucifer said in a detached manner. The word _love_ had never been uttered between them before – even though it was a bit obvious, wasn’t it? Friends loved each other. Family – normal ones, at least – loved each other. And hadn’t he just thought he felt like they belonged to a family? Love was a normal emotion to feel and he _did_ feel it, there was no denying that. Even the child… He felt strangely protective of the child on the Detective’s behalf. And the Detective… Well… “Maybe.”

He watched the rest of the movie in silence, finding that when he wasn’t bent on criticizing, he could indeed relate.

There were other movies after that but he couldn’t really have told what happened in them because the Detective was completely snuggled against his side now and he was more focused on deciding if it was worth the risk to pass an arm around her shoulders or not. Anyone else, he would have done it without a moment of hesitation and with a clever flirting line.

But Chloe Decker _wasn’t_ anyone else and the smell of her flowery shampoo made his heart beat faster.

Her head fell on his shoulder at some point and he didn’t let himself waver further, he shifted to wrap his arm around her, letting her use his chest as a pillow. He was aware she was drowsy but he didn’t think she would mind the new arrangement. If anything, she snuggled closer with a content sigh.

Trixie had fallen asleep on the rug, using one of her new stuffed toy as a pillow.

He felt his own eyelids starting to droop. Too much good food and an entire day spent with an excited kid was exhausting in its own right, even to the devil. He could have gotten up and out the door but the prospect of going back to _Lux_ and the empty penthouse wasn’t a joyful one. He could always pick up someone at the bar, he was certain it would be packed with lonely humans tonight, but it wasn’t as attractive an idea as sharing an innocent night of sleep with his detective.

Clearly, the devil was losing his touch.

The Detective straightened up with a big intake of breath just as he was about to properly drift off. He thought she might flee but she simply winced and rubbed her reddish cheek instead.

“Scratchy.” she complained sleepily, tugging at his sweater.

“May I point out you chose it, darling?” he smirked.

She lifted her eyebrows at the pet name but probably passed it off as one of his many attempts at charming her. An answering smirk played on her lips but not for the same reason.

“And you hate it.” she pointed out.

“I don’t _hate_ it.” he denied. “I like the thought. But did it _have_ to be an angel?”

“The devil’s a fallen angel, isn’t he?” she countered. “I couldn’t find one with a Christmas themed devil.”

He shuddered at the thought of another goat like figure on a Christmas jumper.

“Angels are dick.” he declared.

“Amen and Hallelujah.” she laughed. “I knew there was some Christmas spirit in you.” She shook her head, still laughing. “I have something else for you.”

“Is it kinky lingerie?” he grinned. “You should get the child to bed first.” He got his arm whacked once more for his trouble but the angel sweater cushioned he blow. _Irony_. He went on before she could answer the banter though. “I wanted to get you a gift too. It was… _harder_ than I expected. I could have bought jewelry or a new car but… It wasn’t your heart’s desire. It is _very_ annoying that you are _still_ immune to my powers.”

“Is it?” she challenged with a knowing spark in her eyes.

And again he found himself smiling because he never lied as a rule but what was even the point of trying here? “Not really.” It was refreshing actually. “But I couldn’t decide what you really wanted so I got nothing.”

And it annoyed him because she deserved _everything_.

And if he had thought she was the kind of woman who liked to be covered in gold like the princesses from times long gone he would have done it in a heartbeat. However with or without powers, he knew better.

“Maybe I don’t have any secret desire.” she teased.

“Everyone has secret desires.” he scoffed. “It is just a matter of unlocking them.”

“What is _your_ secret desire?” she asked, her lips twitching because she was fighting her smile. “What is it you really want?” She took a deep slow voice and he figured she was trying to imitate him. “Tell me everything…”

He snorted and cocked his head to the side, finding the whole thing charming. His heart felt a bit like it was being squeezed but not as if someone was crushing it, more like… more like someone was holding it safe it their hand.

He thought back to that stupid cartoon and to the Grinch’s heart growing bigger…

“I would say my deepest desire is obvious, Chloe.” he answered, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “As much as it confuses me sometimes.”

She watched him for a minute, _studying_ him in that way of hers that often made him feel… _bared_ , _exposed_ like he tended to leave some humans after one of his tricks.

“I think it’s time for your gift now.” she whispered, after glancing at her daughter to check she was still asleep.

He knew nothing scandalous would happen, first because it wasn’t really her style and then because Trixie was asleep a few feet away, so he _was_ surprised when she cupped his cheek and leaned in. He even recoiled a little, wondering if she had drunk too much of their spiked eggnog. He couldn’t really resist the call of her lips though. He wasn’t exactly a master at fighting off temptation.

It was a soft kiss, almost brutal in its simplicity, shattering in all the feelings it stirred in him… He wasn’t sure he understood it all… He wasn’t sure how a simple brush of her lips on his could unravel him so completely…

“That’s my gift.” she breathed against his mouth. “You can have this… If you’re sure it’s what you want. Because… I don’t do casual and I don’t share, Lucifer. And I don’t want to trap you into something you’re not comfortable with, so you have a choice…”

His kiss was nothing short of aggressive, far from her light one. It felt a bit like playing with the liquid fire of hell.

Dangerous.

Thrilling.

_Scary_.

She rose to the challenge easily enough, tongue and teeth and wandering hands… He got lost in the moment.

He wasn’t sure how it would work out, _if_ it _could_ work out, if _he_ could make it work… But he was certain he wanted this. With every fiber of his being, he wanted this. And he had never been good at denying himself what he wanted.

She drew back after a few kisses, looking a bit dazed. She licked her lips and tossed a guilty look at her still sleeping daughter.

“We can’t…” she started awkwardly.

“Yes.” he pouted. As frustrated as he was, he understood her reasons. That was part of why he didn’t like the idea of spawns. Terribly troublesome.

She tentatively snuggled back against him and he didn’t hesitate in wrapping his arms around her this time around, settling back against the cushions, making himself comfortable. She tucked her head under his chin, using him as a pillow the very same way her daughter was using her stuffed toy – not that he really minded, he liked having her close.  

“You said the sweater was scratchy.” he remembered suddenly. “The wool will irritate your skin…”

And they couldn’t have _that_.

Nothing could bring discomfort to his Detective.

Not on his watch.

She patted his chest with obvious amusement. “Irritating angel… See, this sweater looks more and more perfect for you…”

He rolled his eyes but let her be, lulling her to sleep by petting her long hair, marveling at being _allowed_ that much.

His last thoughts before he succumbed to sleep were that he might be enjoying Christmas, after all.

It certainly was his best one yet.

At least, until he was woken up by discreet footsteps the next morning and opened his eyes to find Maze leaning over the back of the couch, watching them with a mocking smirk.

“I don’t know what to make fun of first.” his demon grinned, clearly having the best of times. “The sweater? The angel on it? Or the _cuddling_ …”

He glared at her, his eyes flashing red – for show more than out of any anger though, he found he couldn’t really get angry when Chloe was curled up on top of him.

“Shut up, Mazikeen.” he ordered. “A word of this to anyone and…”

He was blinded by the flash of her phone’s camera.

He knew what battles to fight and what battles to lose.

He closed his eyes with a long sigh and let his friend have her fun.

It was still the best Christmas anyway.


End file.
